The Baetylus
by Random Userna- MANATEE
Summary: The Baetylus is an ancient stone that grants amazing powers to the one who claims it. It's been ages since one was last seen on Earth but it has finally happened again and the Hunt for the Baetylus is on. The rules? Each god may select a team of two heroes to represent them in the chase, heroes willing to battle monsters and fellow demigods in the race. But who shall win the prize?


_**Just for a reference point, this story takes place about a week after the Titan's Curse, since I wanted to have a bunch of old Camp Halfblood demigods in here :) So I guess this could be considered AU. Anyways, this is the prologue and the rest will be written in first person from varying people's points of view. Thanks for reading!**_

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Surprisingly, it was Dionysus who saw it first.

It was partially thanks to Zeus, who had been so irritated by the constant yelling and insults thrown back and forth (as was normal in any council meeting) that he'd demanded they retract the domed roof of the throne room so that he might be allowed some fresh air. Hephaestus had activated the contraption he'd built years ago for occasions such as these, and as the ceiling of moving constellations retracted, giving the Olympians full view of the dark night's sky above, Dionysus caught sight of something he'd never thought he'd see again.

The wine god may not have been overly perceptive or observant, but he had a distinct unwillingness to pay attention to what was going on around him, which, oddly enough, was in fact the quality that allowed him to spot it before any of the other Olympians noticed, seeing as they were all immersed in a heated discussion about some trivial thing or another. Really, this particular Council of the Gods had gone on far too long for Dionysus's liking, and he was just about ready to fall asleep. He'd even prefer staying in that insufferable demigod camp to his current position, sitting on his grape vine throne and listening to Hades go on and on about overflow in the Underworld, or something similar. The god of death was only ever allowed in Olympus during the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, and it seemed he was taking advantage of that time to spew all the irksome problems he'd amassed throughout the other 364 days he was stuck in his kingdom below the earth.

Though technically, it was no longer the winter solstice, Dionysus mused, idly twisting a grape vine between his fingers. The council, believe or not, had been going on for a week while the gods tried to sort everything out with this Kronos business. It wasn't as bad as the one council meeting back in Ancient Greece, just when the Romans were about to invade their land. Oh, they'd spent _months_ discussing battle strategies on that one. Ironically, they'd spent so long talking that they hadn't noticed the enemy soldiers making their move, and by the time the gods took notice it was practically too late. Dionysus was positive he'd fallen asleep during that meeting, and he was shaping up to repeat history once again.

At least until he spotted it. Then his half-glazed snapped open, fully aware or his surroundings.

Furtively, he glanced around at the other eleven Olympians, trying to guess if anyone else had spotted it yet. Hades was too immersed in his complaints to realise, Athena fully focused on debating his every point, so those two were safe. Artemis was likewise concentrating on the council; her brother, on the other hand, had headphones on and kept his eyes closed, head rocking slowly to the music. Hermes was occupied with his phone. Ares was too busy arguing just for the sake of arguing. Aphrodite had somehow gotten a hold of a small, compact mirror, and was busy admiring herself in it. Demeter was surreptitiously sneaking cereal out of a concealed, hollowed-out container made from one of the apple-tree branches in her throne. And both Zeus and Hera was busy moderating the council. Perfect.

Or not. Dionysus cursed inwardly as he caught sight of the two remaining gods: Poseidon and Hephaestus, both of which were barely paying attention to the debate, but not disinterested enough to ignore all of their surroundings. Even as the god of wine watched, the so-called "Lord of the Forges" looked up from tinkering with the armrest of his throne and the eyebrows on his misshapen face rose as he caught sight of it. The other gods gaze flickered away, scanning the faces of the other twelve gods for recognition before coming to a stop as his eyes landed on Dionysus's glare. The two stared each other down, each wondering if the other would make a move, before breaking it off abruptly and looking away. Wouldn't do to be conspicuous, after all. Besides, Dionysus thought, it wasn't the end of the world. If they stayed the only two who noticed, than the wine god should easily be able to outsmart the other Olympian and . . .

Drat it! That imbecile Poseidon had just bothered to snap out of whatever daze he'd been in and take a look around, instantly spotting the object that held the interest of both Hephaestus and Dionysus. The wine god could say with utmost certainty that he was no fan of Poseidon, and he liked the ocean god's offspring even less. And now, as the first of the Big Three to notice looked around, he was met with the combined angry looks of Hephaestus and Dionysus as they glowered in his direction. Two competing was fine, three was starting to push it . . .

Almost simultaneously, as if they had planned it in advance, Apollo opened his eyes and took his iPod out to reshuffle the songs, only to spot the object blazing across the sky, while Hermes had decided to give his eyes a break from staring at the brightly lit screen of his caduceus mobile phone and had noticed it at the same moment. Seconds later, Demeter noticed too, and the piece of cereal she'd been holding had dropped from her grasp in surprise and tumbled into the lap of Hera. The Queen of Olympus frowned at her sister in disgust, then in turn noticed what the goddess of harvest was so shocked by. Dionysus held back a barely concealed groan; Demeter never had been one for subtlety.

And now seven of the twelve Olympians had seen it; the wine god sunk lower into his throne in irritation. The way things were shaping up, this competition would surpass even the likes of that back in 323 BC; usually only three or four gods were lucky to spot it soon enough to become real threats in the event, but at this point in time they were all stuck together until the council meeting was adjourned. Unless Dionysus could find an inconspicuous way to sneak out, he was doomed to wait; which seemed to be the case, as his sneaking abilities were less than proficient. Hermes was another story, and Dionysus didn't like the sly way in which the god of travellers looked around the room, as though seeking an exit.

Unfortunately, Apollo didn't share the same competence at going unnoticed. So shocking was the fact that he'd actually turned off his music and taken his earbuds that Artemis took a momentary pause from the conversation and shot him a strange look, which just so happened to involve her gaze passing right by the object that drew the attention of so many. Dionysus cursed silently again as the maiden took notice, and repeated himself once Athena, finally tearing herself away from the debate to see the surprised faces before her, glimpsed it as well.

The gods did not pray (they were usually the one being prayed _to_), but at that moment, Dionysus was willing to bet any of them would give anything to any god so long as no one else noticed the object. No such luck. As Aphrodite tilted her mirror at just the right angle to admire a different side of her face, she noticed the reflection in her mirror and turned her head in surprise, thus tipping off Ares, who had taken a break from arguing to stare at the love goddess and subtly flex his muscles at her when the two of them thought no one was looking. It was a gesture that would have made Hephaestus furious, had he not been so entranced by the phenomenon.

And now Zeus and Hades were all that remained in the class of ignorant gods who had yet to catch sight of the object. Both were still arguing about something trivial; Hades wanted a spot on the council during the summer solstice as well and Zeus was completely against it. The same old debate, which had grown tiresome for the other Olympians _long_ ago. Dionysus used to wish the two would finally lose interest in the subject; now he was hoping it would keep them interested enough not to see it. Already, things weren't looking good. Eleven gods! The competition would be fierce this year. But Dionysus was confident that he'd have the winning champions; that wretched camp wasn't good for much, but it _had_ helped his sons. He'd never been the first to have his team reach the stone before, and his time was long overdue.

". . . and furthermore, I-" Eleven Olympian gods tensed as Hades stopped abruptly in the middle of making his point. The entire time he'd kept his attention focused solely on the King of Olympus, but during their most recent exchange his eyes had deviated ever so slightly from his brother, and apparently, as seconds later his intense, black-as-night eyes widened, it had been enough. Eleven near-silent sighs of discontent whistled through the room like the wind, and it was perhaps this deviation in the air he lorded over that caused Zeus to finally realise something was wrong.

"What's the matter with you all?" Zeus barked, wrinkling his pinstriped suit as he leaned forwards on his platinum throne. "You haven't said a word! Poseidon! Hades wants to claim part of your realm as his! What do you have to say to that? And Hera, my dear wife, you haven't said a word since . . ." The god of the sky's eyes jumped from face to face, and even he could not fail to notice the barely concealed looks of surprise, shock and interest worn by each god. "Since . . ." Finally, his grey eyes landed on Ares, perhaps the least subtle of the Olympians. The war god was currently doing nothing to mask the expression of excitement on his face at the sight of the object and what it entailed. "Since . . ." Dionysus watched a few gods wince and close their eyes annoyance as Zeus's gaze followed that of Ares, right up to the spot where the object was shining across the sky. Even the king of the gods was shocked into silence, but only for a moment; he had yet to learn that they all knew of its presence, and seemed determined to try and draw attention away from the stone. "Artemis!" he said suddenly. "Weren't you just arguing some very good points about the fight with Kronos? Let's hear those again?"

"Pardon?" The level-headed goddess looked at her father in surprise. "I mean, yes, of course. As I have been saying, Kronos is a threat we can no longer . . ."

The charade was pointless, of course. Dionysus, having been the first god in the room to spot the object, could say with unfortunate certainty that every Olympian in this room now knew it was present; most of them just didn't know everyone else was aware of that fact. But they were slowly learning, he thought, as he watched every god look at each other in turn. Too slow, though. Any head start he could have hoped to get would be nearly impossible to gain now, thanks to the fact that none of the gods could leave the council meeting until Zeus had officially declared it over. He'd forgotten that fact earlier in his earnest to leave, and it appeared Hermes had too, and the idea had just occurred to him, as his eyes immediately stopped roaming the room for exits and contented themselves with looking at the other gods amusedly; Dionysus guessed that the messenger god was well aware they all knew of the object, and he seemed to be having fun try to watch the others deduce as such. Finally, though, it appeared he could stand it no longer; the excitement for the competition was too great.

"Um, excuse me," Hermes said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that could only mean trouble. Dionysus knew the god of travellers was also hoping to win the stone this time around – they all were. Not that any of them will, Dionysus thought to himself. That right would be reserved for him. "But I believe this council meeting is now . . . adjourned?"

Zeus frowned at him, and for a moment, the air seemed to charge with unseen electricity due to the lord of the sky's anger at the thief god's impertinence to try and make decisions for him, but the tension quickly dispersed as Zeus's stormy grey eyes darted back up towards the object. "Er, yes, of course." He clapped his hands once, the booming sound echoing like a clap of thunder through the throne room. "I hereby declare this Council of the Gods . . ." He glanced around at them all; every god and goddess was waiting on the edge of their seats, like racers waiting to hear the starting gun. "Adjourned!"

The astonishing medley of cacophonous noises and bright, flashing lights would have overwhelmed any regular mortal's senses as the gods all disappeared simultaneously, each with their own distinct flare to their exits. Dionysus, however, didn't bother with all the dramatics, merely snapping his fingers and disappearing, leaving only the smell of freshly-pressed grapes in his wake. Being the god of theatre, it may have seemed unusual to leave in such a bland way, but he was rather occupied with other things, at the moment.

He had a competition to win.

High above in the darkened sky, plummeting swiftly towards Earth, the Baetylus glowed a pulsating shade of violet, the only aspect that set it apart from other falling meteorites. At least, appearance-wise. The Baetylus also possessed unimaginable powers, a fact that couldn't be deduced just by looking at the thing. But the gods knew what it could do, and each wanted to claim it for their own.

A Baetylus had not fallen to the earth in thousands of years. But now one had come, and the hunt for the Baetylus was on.


End file.
